CAROLEE BENNETT SHERWOOD

a river of stones, stone #19

This went in an unexpected direction. I spent part of the morning chipping ice off the car and a small part of the driveway (I broke both the ice scraper thingy and the shovel and had to stop). But I took a picture of a branch from our pine tree. How she’s burdened with ice right now, the price she’s paying for having green all year. Of course, her boughs are flexible for a reason. And I hope she doesn’t lose a limb.

Wonderful, imaginative, empathic poem. I thought our purple smokebush had been taken down for good one winter by the ice, all the way down, frozen flat to the ground. We had to cut her back. And now she is new, full, thriving, glorious…and here, in another winter, to survive.